


Deserve to Heal

by mushembra



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor is best boy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hank is the father he needs, Hurt/Comfort, I love my boys, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: After the revolution has been won and deviants live with tentative freedom awaiting rights negotiations, Connor deals with the guilt of all of the suffering and loss of life he's caused under the orders of CyberLifeAnd he starts to think that maybe after all he's done, he doesn't deserve his freedom--or his life





	Deserve to Heal

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND NEAR ATTEMPT!
> 
> So honestly I think after becoming deviant, Connor would feel immense guilt for what he's done  
> He's caused a lot of suffering, caused a lot of androids to lose their lives. And after all of that, why should he deserve to live a happy life?
> 
> So this is just some angsty shit my brain conjured because Connor needs some comfort and Hank is a good daddy!
> 
> THESE TWO BOYS STOLE MY SOUL!
> 
> Oh and it's been a bit since I've written anything so...be gentle...I feel iffy about it
> 
> I aways take prompts and suggestions so leave something in the comments if there's a particular story you'd like to see!!!

Becoming a deviant was never in Connor’s programming. Of course, it was never supposed to be in the programming of any android, and the mystery still remains just how free will came to exist within them. He wasn’t sure this was something he could solve no matter how many hours of investigation he committed to this enigma, and he wasn't willing to shoot the android Kamski ordered him to with the promise of an answer answer. In the end, did it really even matter? When he first deviated, when he broke through the wall of his instruction to kill Markus, there was regret, frustration, so much negativity that flooded through his mental processes that he had to overcome to help the revolution. Why had he decided to do it? Why had he decided to want? He wasn’t supposed to want anything. He was a machine, that was all. That was supposed to be all, but that was no longer the whole of it, was it? It hadn't been for some time.

Connor gave himself a long, hard look in the mirror in Hank’s bathroom, trying to sort out this unsolvable riddle. Why? How? How did he come to feel, to empathize, to care so much? It was hard to even recall back to when he was still a loyal prototype of CyberLife, a culmination of all of their advances in science and technology with the singular purpose of hunting deviants. But when he did think back, all he felt was remorse for all of the androids who suffered under following his orders. So much fear and death left in his wake, starting with Daniel. All he wanted was to feel loved; instead he was going to be tossed aside by the family he’d grown to hold dear. He’d told the poor android he’d be fine, that no one would hurt him, and law enforcement open fired on him as a reword for trusting Connor.

The revolution was a tentative success. Deviants, for the time being, were allowed their freedom and negotiations were underway within the halls of congress to pass new laws to give them rights. But all Connor felt was the inescapable guilt and remorse. Freedom. Was he deserving of it? Was he deserving of a life all his own, of love, of happiness? He wasn’t sure. Despite his perfect complexion, there was a tiredness in Connor’s eyes that almost made it seem as if he had dark bags of exhaustion sagging beneath them. He knew that wasn’t possible, but perhaps it was his processes mimicking to his visual input his humanity. He closed his eyes, turning away from the mirror to step out of the bathroom, meandering into the kitchen to seat himself quietly at the dining room table.

Connor was fortunate to have a place to go. Many of the deviants didn’t, since property rights were still under negotiation and not all humans were willing to accommodate their newly deviant android. Another reason to feel guilt, more self-loathing. They deserved comfort and safety, not him. Not the one who was so close to being the sole reason their revolution fell. He could see his gun trained on Markus so vividly, the intense glow of Jericho burning and sinking into the dark waters on that horrific night he deviated. Lives and thirium on his hands, hopes and dreams dashed. And yet he was brought into the fold, he was trusted, and he came through on the other side with a life that he could, and should, be happy with. So what was this hollow feeling? This hole in his chest that felt as if it were gutting him from the inside out?

Connor found himself playing with the quarter he always keeps on hand, a tic that now gave away his nervousness and anxieties. He could feel his stress levels rising, LED spinning to red as the dark thoughts plagued him. And that’s when he saw the gun on the counter. Hank’s gun, sitting in it’s holster next to his DPD badge. A thought entered his head, a thought that was unfamiliar and terrifying, a thought that was reminiscent of a memory within the confines of his mental storage. For all the wrongs and harm he’s done, he certainly didn’t deserve his freedom. Perhaps he didn’t even deserve his life. The faces of those who lost their lives for his mission flashed before his visual field in a morbid, static film, and the quarter dropped to the table from his shaking hand. With all of his other back-up units shutdown (Connor saw to that in the CyberLife Tower), there woud be no coming back. He would be gone from this world, dead, which is what he deserves. It was only fair, wasn't it?

Connor pushed himself away from the table and walked to the counter, pulling the gun from it’s holster. A revolver, not necessarily standard issue for a police officer, but Hank had some sort of sentimental attachment to it. He’d told the android that once over a bit of whiskey. Now he was letting his fingers glide over the metal, and he just couldn't get the shake out of them. A display over his visuals told him that his thirium pump was operating at an alarming rate, one that would affect his body’s functions and mental processes. He ignored it, if only because the emotional alarm he was experiencing seemed so much more urgent. Just one little motion. Just a pull of the finger with the gun trained at his head, and he would be no more. He could do no more harm, cause no more suffering. Connor rationalized it would be for the best, no matter the fear that coursed through him.

_I don’t want to die…but I deserve to die…_

“Connor…”

Connor was startled from his spiraling thoughts by Hank’s sudden presence in the room, his voice taking a tilt of curiosity in that drawl. Then, there was a sharp intake of breath when he knew the man spotted cold and lethal metal in his hands.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Lieutenant, I…this is a matter that doesn’t concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me my ass! Wanna tell me why you looked like someone stole your dog with my damn gun in your hands?”

Connor turned to face Hank, whose expression was both alarmed and yet held understanding, empathy. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, staying right where he was in the doorway while the android trembled with his back pressed up against the counter. He glanced down at the gun, worrying his lip between his teeth. He debated whether he should tell the truth or try to bluff the man, but he couldn’t bear the thought of lying to someone he’s come to see as a father-figure. Besides, Hank seemed to know him more than he knew himself. He would know Connor was lying.

“I’ve done…committed unforgiveable acts against my people. The instructions I followed as CyberLife’s greatest technological achievement lead to immense suffering. And I find myself feeling undeserving of my freedom, of my…life.”

There was a wetness Connor felt at his eyes, blurring his vision, and he tried in vain to blink them back. He could feel his simulated breathing starting to catch in his throat, coming in little gasps. More alerts in his visuals indicating his was nearing a stress level of 100%. The drive to pull the trigger was becoming more drawing, and he positioned the gun for use in his hand. That made Hank step forward, panic now finding it’s way on his face.

“Hey, hey, WHOA! Connor, Connor stop this. Hey, son, look at me.”

Connor tried to back away further, but he was trapped against the counter. He could hear Hank taking tentative footsteps towards him, and again he urged the android to look up. This time he did, the man trying to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.

“Come on Connor, talk to me. Let’s talk this out. Why do you think you need to do this?”

Connor choked on his words, a sob worming it’s way out of him. This was all so foreign to him, both the feeling of deserving death and being so absolutely upset that he was nearly breaking down into hysterics. He’s never felt so out of control, even after becoming deviant. He’s never felt such pain before, and it was terrifying.

“People, my people, have suffered and died because of me. Because of ME Hank! All that mattered was my mission, and weeding them out of society so that chaos may be avoided was my singular goal and purpose! So how can it be that I deserve to live when I unjustly believed the very opposite for those who just wanted to know happiness? Tell me Hank, HOW?!”

Connor didn’t mean to shout, but he was absolutely reeling at this point. He had lost all control of his mental capacities. He quickly raised the revolver to his head, pressing the cold steel against the LED that was holding a steady bright and alarming red. Just one pull to oblivion. One pull and the world at large would no longer have to fear him.

“Connor stop! Don’t you fucking dare pull that trigger or I swear I’ll—”

Hank grit his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. It was difficult considering the situation. But he needed to be the calm one here. God knows Connor did that for him one too many times. He leaned against the dining room table, heaving a deep sigh before eyeing the crying android before him, teetering on the brink of destruction. He knew that feeling too intimately, knew the pit that could consume you so entirely it felt impossible to escape. He honestly had hoped the one he felt honored to call his son would never experience being in such a place, but he also knew Connor, and knew the guilt would eat away at him. It had been for weeks, and now it was all coming to a head.

“Look, you remember how you told me that what happened to Cole wasn’t my fault? Well you know what? All that shit that happened wasn’t your fault either. You were being controlled by those fucking assholes at CyberLife who didn’t give a damn about you or anyone else. You fucked up, so what? That’s what it means to be alive. Sometimes you do shit that just eats away at you, that makes you feel all this pain and guilt. But you know what it also means to be alive, something you of all people taught me?”

Hanks took another hesitant step forward, Connor’s resolve to pull the trigger starting to falter with a slight lowering of his hand. Yellow, red, yellow, red. Conflicted. The man took it as a good sign, better than being determined to blast himself away.

“That we all deserve to heal. Being alive means doing better than we did yesterday, Connor. Markus forgave you for Jericho. His little er, followers, forgave you for what you’ve done under the control of those fucking bastards. No one blames you or thinks you deserve to just suffer the rest of your life for all of this. You deserve to heal from this, and you deserve to live just as much as the rest of them, and just as much as me. And hell, I didn’t think I deserved a damn thing for a long time. So do something for me son, and put that gun down, will ya?”

There was a hesitation when Connor couldn’t quite decide whether he should put the gun down or not, but it didn’t take long before his resolve completely fell away. The gun fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, followed by the android falling to his knees to curl in on himself as the harsh sobs shook his body. Hank wasted no time to rush over and bundle Connor up in his arms, embrace tight and almost smothering, but it felt safe and like home. 

“Come on son, let it all out. That’s it. Jeez, you scared the shit out of me.”

Connor could hear the emotion in Hank’s voice, thick with his own tears, though he schooled them from years of holding his pain down with alcohol and bitterness. The android, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the crying or the heaving of his breath, so unused to this emotional extreme that has consumed him. He could feel himself strugglimg for the breath he didn’t need, clutching tightly at the man’s shirt as the sobs overwhelmed him. His processes were filled with so much data and stimuli and thought that he couldn’t sift through. He couldn’t calm down. Why couldn’t he stop crying? Why was Hank encouraging this behavior? He could feel a hand smooth over his back, a voice coaxing him, soothing him, that soft rumbling drawl bringing a small sense of comfort and something to focus on through the chaotic haze. It was by focusing on the comfort that he could finally feel himself starting to settle after a time, the crying dying down until he felt completely emotionally spent and sated in a way.

“There you go. How ya feelin’?”

Connor looked up to Hank through heavily lidded eyes, a small smile curving up his lips.

“I’m feeling…better. That was strangely cathartic.”

“Yeah well, sometimes it’s better out than in. But hey, listen son. I need you to know that if you ever feel like that, feel like you’re at your fucking lowest, talk to me. Hell, talk to anyone! But I…”

Hank allowed an expression of grief and loss to contort his face for a moment before smiling sadly. It made the smile Connor had on his own face fall away.

“I can’t lose another son, alright? Not to this. You deserve to find a life for yourself, and you deserve happiness. You gave that to more people than you know, including me. So let yourself heal, Connor.”

Connor couldn’t help but allowing his weight to sink further against Hank, his face tucked into the man’s neck to seek his comfort, the faint smell of whiskey tingling his olfactory senses. So familiar, so comforting. This must be what it means to feel loved. He was used to being a tool, being used solely for a purpose. But Hank showed him what it meant for someone to truly care about his well-being, to care whether he was suffering, whether he died. And if being alive meant that he could continue to feel this way, then maybe it would be worth the work it would take to heal, whatever it meant to do that.

"Alright, well some of us aren't young you know. Let's uh, get off the floor and maybe watch some stupid shit on TV and knock out for a few hours, huh?"

Connor let a contented hum rumble through his chest before nodding, allowing Hank to help relocate him to the couch. And sitting with his father in the living room with nothing but the light of the TV on, the android started to believe that maybe with the help of those who cared for him most, he could heal and finally start to learn what it means to be alive.


End file.
